Unbelievable!

Towards the end of our walk this morning, I clock a man coming towards us, trailing his off-lead Bernese bitch, his head buried in the contents of his phone. This is cause for an immediate, if judgy, eyeroll from me. You cannot watch your phone and your dog at the same time, and the dog knows when you're not paying attention.

Fergus knows this dog and has often played with her, so I think nothing of it. She's normally being walked by a woman, though, and we do stop and chat. But today the man is ensconced with his phone. Fergus seems more relentless than usual in his play, kissing Berkeley - for that is her name - his face stuck in her nether regions.

I let them gambol and play for a bit and then they disappear to the path by the river, Fergus still licking and kissing. Berkeley's owner eventually follows them. I'm whistling to Fergus and recalling him to me, which is normally more than enough for him to rejoin me immediately but today it just isn't happening. Odd.

"Off you go, Fergus. Leave her alone now. Can you come and get your dog please?"

I approach the riverbank. I ask whether Berkeley is in season.

"She's just coming to the end. She probably still smells a bit."

And there's the red flag. In my experience, people usually say this when their dog is actually in season but they're bored with taking her on a leashed road walk, so they decide that it will all be all right. It often isn't. It only takes seconds for determined dogs to tie.

"That's often the worst time, when it's coming to an end." I am trying to be polite and conciliatory. My dog is still enjoying his licky kissfest in her nethers. I try to push past the thought of dozens of flatcoat x Bernese puppies splashing around in that river, mentally calculating the costs of puppy support.

"What can you do?" he shrugs, helplessly.

I decide that someone has to take charge. "Well, if you put your dog on her lead, then I can put mine on and take him away."

We attempt this a couple of times, without success. They splash about in the river. Berkeley flirting, Fergus driven, and relentlessly pursuing his nascent urges to pass on his genes.

"I'm sorry. I can't compete with his natural instincts."

"What can you do?" Again. "It's been so long and she's 11 years old."

"How long has it been, exactly?

"About two weeks now. It's endless. On and on."

Oh god. Does he think that a bitch's season lasts the same amount of time as a human's? He has had this dog for 11 years and he still hasn't got to grips with her seasons! "It's normally about three weeks or longer." I sound calm! I do not feel calm.

Eventually we manage to catch our dogs and hold them fast. Trying very hard to hide my annoyance, before he comes to the end of another hand-wringing "What can you do?" Do you want the full lecture, mate? Because here it comes. I say, through gritted teeth:

"Well, you could have kept her on a lead. Generally if I see another dog on a lead I try to put mine on too, because there's usually a reason. And you could have told me that she was in season as soon as he came near, so I could deal with him and take him away." BUT YOU WEREN'T LOOKING, WERE YOU, IDIOT?

I have nothing against people not neutering their dogs. But if this is your perfectly valid choice, then you must take responsibility for the consequences. May Nature protect me from entitled, mediocre men and their lazy helplessness.